


my hands are worn, my heart is torn

by sxldato



Category: Death Note
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Character, Other, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues, a very fragile russian china doll, but he's terrible with metaphors, matt just always tries so hard god bless his soul, matt tries to be supportive and ultimately succeeds, mello IS a complete disaster, mello is not a dude fight me irl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxldato/pseuds/sxldato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mello leaves Matt's apartment for the first time since the explosion.<br/>They don't enjoy being stared at like they used to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my hands are worn, my heart is torn

**Author's Note:**

> i should be studying for a pre-calc exam that i have tomorrow morning but why make smart decisions amiright
> 
> title is from "It Pulls Me Under" by Butterfly Boucher

Pale hands shook visibly, thin fingers curling around the temple arms of large sunglasses that obscured half of the occupant’s face. Eyes— one strikingly blue and the other the color of ice— remained lowered, blond lashes casting shadows across high cheekbones. The sunglasses were cast aside, set on the kitchen counter, and the leather jacket was shed like snakeskin.

The damage was obvious at first glance. The deep ugly red was a shock against otherwise clear, porcelain skin. It zigzagged its way from the face, down the neck and shoulder and almost reaching the elbow. It stretched across the collarbone, reaching out like claws over the chest, seeming to want to mar and vandalize as much as it could.

"Matt, I can’t do this."

The man in question took his hand off the doorknob and turned around, pushing fire engine red hair out of his face. “What? Mello, that’s ridiculous; of _course_ you can.”

Mello shook their head hurriedly, taking a step back for good measure. “N-no, I— I don’t want to. Everyone’s gonna stare at me—”

"That’s what they’ve always done." Matt strode over and took Mello gently by the shoulders. "They always stare— It’s because you’re fucking _beautiful._ "

Mello choked out a hoarse laugh. “Not anymore.”

"I call bullshit," Matt replied bluntly. "You’ve gotta be the most spectacular, stunning person I’ve ever had the honor of meeting. And you always will be. Do you believe me?"

Mello took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled slowly, eyes darting around the room before coming to rest on Matt’s face. “… I think I have to.”

"Great!" Matt threw an arm around Mello’s shoulders and pressed a chaste kiss to the uninjured side of their face. "Shall we, then?"

The two of them were still in eyeshot of the apartment when Mello felt a prickle run down their spine that could only mean one thing. People were staring them down from behind, but not even daring to look at them from the front. The realization of that hit them like a slap in the face, and they stopped dead in their tracks.

"What’s wrong?" Matt asked, worry causing his brows to furrow.

It was getting harder and harder for Mello to breathe. Being the center of attention had never been a problem before; but of course, things had been _different_ before. “I feel sick,” they forced out between a clenched jaw. “We need to go back, I— I  can’t—”

"Woah, easy, easy, I got you, it’s okay." Matt led them over to a nearby bench and sat them down, kneeling in front of them so he could see their face. "Try and steady your breathing for me. In through your nose and out through your mouth." This happened sometimes, ever since the both of them were kids. Too much stress caused too much anxiety and suddenly Mello was having a panic attack. Matt did his best to calm Mello down before it got too out of hand.

Once Mello appeared to be breathing normally, Matt moved to sit down on the bench next to them, rubbing their back a little as a gesture of comfort. Mello’s face was buried in their hands and their shoulders were shaking.

"I’m sorry," came a muffled reply. "I’m so fucking sorry…"

"It’s alright, Mel. Really, it’s fine, I promise." Matt ran his fingers through their hair, tucking loose strands behind their ears. "Take as long as you need; we have plenty of time."

"I could… I could _feel_ them looking at me,” Mello whispered, peeking around their hand. “But not _at_ me, like… like they were _watching_ without _looking_ and I’ve— I’ve never felt so invisible and so judged at the same time. It’s horrible and I don’t want to feel it ever again.” They looked up at Matt, tears streaking their face. “Please don’t make me do this.”

"You gotta do it sometime," Matt murmured. "You can’t just stay in the apartment forever. You need practice, and I know it’s hard, and I’m sorry, but you have to do this, and I _know_ you can. You are _so much more_ than scar tissue, Mello. That’s just one layer of you. You’re—” Matt spread his arms out, like he’d just received a revelation. “You’re an onion.”

Mello groaned. “Which means when you peel me back to find more and more of the same thing and you end up _crying_ because I’m _terrible—”_

"No, no no, oh god that was a bad metaphor, okay, um, crap. Okay, okay, just listen to me, alright?" He took Mello’s hands in his own, holding them tight but not painfully. "People are gonna stare. I’m not gonna lie to you and say they’ll stop when we get back up, because they won’t stop. They’ll stare at you. Because people are shitty and they judge people who look different.”

Mello pulled their hands away and drew their legs up onto the bench, trying to make themself smaller, invisible. “I think you lied to me.”

Matt’s brows furrowed. “When?”

“You told me that I was still beautiful. You tricked me. You _lied_.”

“Mello—“

“I might be half blind now, but I can still fucking see my reflection. I don’t know why I believed you. It was stupid of me.”

“Stop it.” Matt took Mello’s face in his hands. “Stop and look at me right now. You know why I said it? Because I _meant_ it. I think you’re fucking stunning. Is that because I love you and so I automatically always think you’re beautiful? I don’t know. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

Mello sniffed a little and wiped their face with the heels of their palms. Their eyeliner smudged a bit in the process, and Matt wiped the marks away with his thumb before letting go of them. “You know something else, Mel?”

"What?" They croaked.

“You’re more than your body, too. Being attractive is great, and the day you aren’t is when Hell freezes over, but that’s not all you are. There’s so much of you in your head, and in your heart, and it’s real cheap of people to judge you based on such shallow standards. Like, literally, it’s shallow, because it’s your skin.”

Mello smiled a bit at that, and Matt considered it a success. “You’re also a million times better than all these people put together,” Matt continued, and Mello scoffed. “No, seriously. You could stomp on all of them— or you could probably actually stomp on some of them. Small children are just screaming to be drop-kicked, honestly. Especially when they start crying, you know? How does such a tiny creature make so much noise? It fucking defies the laws of nature.”

Mello was laughing genuinely now, and Matt couldn’t help but think that this was what sunshine looked like if it were a person. Mello was not the nicest, nor did they have the best morals, but when they smiled, or when they laughed… it was like everything bad in the world faded away.

It was a while before either of them spoke again, but after Mello stopped laughing they said, “We can go.”

"Are you sure? If you need a little more time to cool down, we can—"

"No," Mello responded decisively, getting to their feet and smoothing down their vest. "No, I’m ready. I’m not afraid."

"It’s okay to be afraid," Matt reminded them quietly, but stood up as well all the same.

"But I’m not." Mello’s tone was firm, like they were trying to convince themself more than anyone else. "Let’s go."

As they walked, Matt could see people looking, but he could also see Mello consciously holding their head up proudly as they walked, black boots clicking against the sidewalk. Self-hatred didn’t suit Mello; vanity was gorgeous on them, and in Matt’s opinion, no one deserved to love themself more than Mello did.

"I love you," he mentioned casually.

"I know." A pause, and then a long sideways glance paired with a smile. "I love you, too."

Matt grinned to himself as the two of them made their way down the boulevard.

**Author's Note:**

> _I won't stay here suspended forever_   
> _I must be on my way_   
> _I won't stay here helpless forever_   
> _I must be on my way_


End file.
